Category Archives: Poem

The Lady Doth Protest Just Right, Methinks, for Wed. Poetry Prompt

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Does this look like a sixty year old leg to you? She posed for it!!!

The Lady Doth Protest Just Right, Methinks

Any idiot can use
Shakespeare as his means to excuse
ardor that is uninvited,
passion that is unrequited.
Just like a half-schooled jerk to quote
a line that he has learned by rote.

“The Lady Doth Protest too much. . . .”
he says as he expands his clutch.
As she then makes attempts to guard her
honor from his excess ardor,
if he won’t take her “No!” verbatim,
there is one way to educate him.

For when a lady’s had enough,
it may behoove her to get rough.
That she may return home intact
may require much less tact
and more physicality
to apprise him of reality.

A well-placed knee aimed at his tool
may seem unfairly base and cruel,
yet if mere words will not connect,
this simple action might correct.
If entreaties will not stir him,
extreme sign language might deter him.

Wednesday Poetry Prompt is “Just like ……”

Elastic, for RDP Wednesday

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dsc08669

Elastic
(Cyber Romance)

Our affection is elastic, stretching from here to there.
My nightly kisses reach you through a thousand miles of air.
We have a date at 2 p.m., another at eleven
or twelve or one. It matters not. This freedom is just heaven.
No scrambling for a lipstick. No reaching for our combs.
No need to leave the comforts of our cozy homes.
No reservations must be made, no flowers to be bought.
No rashes to be suffered and no colds to be caught.
We are so safe here sheltered each in our favorite place
without expending energy meeting face-to-face.
It is a cyber romance—the newest thing to do.
And instead of having babies—one, perhaps, or two,
emojis I will give thee—as many as you please.
Life is so much simpler  lived out via screens and keys.

 

 

RDPFor RDP Wednesday: Elastic

“The Rock Star’s Lament” for the Sunday Whirl Wordle # 591

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The Rock Star’s Lament

I scan the shadows for lurking fans,
as staff surveys surrounding vans.
We know their tricks, know where they gather,
and what gets them in a lather.

Their heads snap back at full attention
when they hear the very mention
of my name and flashbulbs flash.
They ask for autographs and cash.

They reach to touch or cast me gifts.
They corner me on stairs or lifts.
They feign a faint or hum a song
I’ve just recorded as they walk along

the path they know I daily walk,
hoping for a little talk.
I should feel flattered, except that it’s
exhausting to be loved to bits!!!!

For the Sunday Whirl Wordle today, the prompt words are:
touch hum flash faint gather staff tricks head snap bits cast shadows
Thanks to Sam Moghadam on Unsplash for the image.

Finite, for Just Jot It, Jan 31, 2025

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Finite

In the end, all the same.
Although remembering your name,
eventually no one knows
the you that lived inside your clothes.

They may see your charming smile,
your tender looks or cunning guile,
and still not have the faintest clue
of the authentic, inner you.

Perhaps we start out all the same;
so who’s the one that we should blame
when some turn into Phyllis Dillers
and others into serial killers?

Ghandi, Hitler, Bundy, and
the rest of us, by nature’s hand
instilled with sin or piety
in infinite variety.

But still, at end of life, we fall,
not so different after all.
At the very end of day,
returned to dust, we blow away.

For Just Jot It the prompt is to include a word with “fini” in it.

The Way, for The Unicorn Challenge. Feb 1, 2025

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The Way

The well-bricked path leads steeply down
to the bottom of the town
to mysteries that can’t be seen,
with many pleasures in-between.

Neatly stuccoed walls with doors
recessed but opening onto floors
perhaps mosaic or well-worn wood
you’d stoop to caress if you could.

Plants in front of every  dwelling
exude the green that you’ve been smelling
to balance all the brick and stone
as you walk down this road alone.

Path leads to steps to path to road
and far below, the mother lode
of other souls, milling there
beneath that final lonely stair.

Your trip down of double worth.
First lone reflection, then the mirth
of company that you knew not
all along, was what you really sought.

for The Unicorn Challenge  we are to write a short piece no longer than 250 words based on the above photograph.

Loving (More Than) Spoonfuls

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Loving (More Than) Spoonfuls

It seemed a meager portion for such a pricey place––
three peas, a single escargot. Potatoes? not a trace.
They’d spilled some brown stuff on the plate and dabbed a bit of green.
No wonder other diners all looked so very lean.

Two bites and the first course was gone, the plates all whisked away,
replaced by a sparse salad little more than mounds of hay.
A tiny slivered mass of yellow with seeds sprinkled over,
a spray of oil, some flower petals and a sprig of clover.

I looked my first date in the eye to see what he might think.
As he lifted a forkful, he gave a little wink.
We consumed their tiny lamb chops, complete with ruffled cuff
and scarfed the spoonful of dessert that wasn’t near enough.

He paid the bill, retrieved our coats and walked me to his car.
“I have another treat for you,” he said. “It isn’t far.”
He pulled up to McDonalds and ordered two big macs,
large French fries and two sodas and handed me the sacks.

Afterwards, at Dairy Queen, we sealed this new romance
with Butterfinger Blizzards and then a smoldering glance.
I accepted the next course with lips and arms most eager.
And what he served me next, my dear, was anything but meager.

I do not like posh restaurants with their nouvelle cuisine.
I find their foam and slivers and seeds and piles obscene.
Their single little vegetables hung on tiny racks?
I prefer larger portions and calories served in sacks!

And that is how we bonded, your Uncle Joe and I,
over Colonel Sanders, Taco Bell and carryout Thai.
Others may impress their dates with pricey gourmet suppers,
but my true love seduced with feasts of fast food filler-uppers!

In response to Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “Spoonful”

Trouble in the School Cafeteria, Jan 30, 2025

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The hullabaloo
in the breakfast queue 
just had to do
with those picky few
who walked the beam
on the gymnastic team
who declared the waffle
was simply awful!
Who, at the most,
could slug down the toast!

For Esther’s “Can You tell a story in. . . . ” Challenge,  the challenge was:

Can you tell a story in 38 words? You must use the following words somewhere in the story:

  • HULLABALOO
  • QUEUE
  • SLUG
  • BEAM
  • WAFFLE

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Borrowed Words for dVerse Poets, Jan 29, 2025

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MAGA

Nose to nose,
we meet as one.
Our cause?
To hide
the smoking gun.
We have not even
half begun!

WISH

If I were more than
a toothless crone,
I’d  gnaw our summer
down to the bone.

THE DEATH OF JUSTICE

Attempts to name it
were of no use.
Its means were silenced
by a swinging noose.
Justice arose
and is swinging loose.
Its long neck stretched
by long abuse.

On Track

Those nearest to us
cannot remove
that sure belief
in our mutual groove.

National Anthem

We crow its verses
to try to see
if they’ll renew
our liberty,

Lone Rider

We can’t assume
what we once knew.
Our van’s life passengers
(that sum of two)
no longer number
both me and you.

Buried Wisdom

We hide awareness
in deep dark caves.
The sea obscures them
in rushing waves.
The cream of sea foam
roars and paves
a ceiling over
truth’s buried raves.

 

The prompt for dVerse poets was to write a poem using one or all of the lines of words below, in the  order in which they appear. I composed a different poem for each set.

nose – one – cause – even
were – crone – our – summer
name – use – means – arose
near – can – remove – sure
crow – verse – see – renew
assume – once- van – sum
aware – caves – sea – cream

 

To read other poems written to this prompt, go HERE.

 

Scrabble Quibbles for RDP Jan 27, 2025

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Scrabble Quibbles

Scrabble Quibbles

I move the tiles back and forth but still I cannot lick
the secret to which words may be made from my weird pick.
I cannot spell “memorial” without another “m,”
so instead I settle and simply spell out “rim.”
Before too long I find another perfect word to make,
but, alas, I do not have the “u” to spell out quake.
I spy the final “u” when my opponent shifts her rack,
and so I skip my turn to return some letters back.
And this segment of the story will prove I was to blame
when my sister drew the “q” and spelled out “quick” to win the game!

Note: the photo of the Scrabble board is of a real game, although not the one described in the poem. The reason I took the photo is because of the very unlikely occurrence of the word “urinate” showing up twice on the same board. What are the chances of not only having the right tiles to spell the same 7 letter word twice but also finding a place to play them? 

The prompt for RDP Monday is Quibble

“Shore Leave” for The Sunday Whirl # 691, Jan 26, 2025

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Shore Leave

Calm cliffs rise up from beastly seas to soothe a sailor’s mind,
and rolling hills make memories of a different kind.
Though blades of grass may mimic the sway of restless swells,
more timid winds shake music from a string of tiny bells
woven through the tree limbs and stroke music from thin bars
sticking up out of  the earth, topped off by tiny jars
that lips of breezes play like flutes to create harmony
under the stars that sets the hearts of land-bound sailors free.
These scenes that meet their gazes dispel dark memories
of months of troubled dreaming on tempest-tossed wild seas

Painting by Juan Antonio Pérez Ayala

For The Sunday Whirl Wordle 691  today’s words to use are: bell mimic blade gaze hills jar soothe mind stars timid beastly sea